


What is dead may never die

by Kirwani



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Daenarys Targaryen/prince of dorne, Daenerys and jon wont be a couple for some time, Dorne, Dragonstone, F/M, Fix It, Jealous Dany, Jealous Jon, Jealous Jon Snow, Missing Scenes, Season 8, Slow Burn, affair, boatbaby, dany and jon still love each other, glorious smut thoughts, season 7
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2020-05-19 19:43:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19363099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirwani/pseuds/Kirwani
Summary: Five years after Jon pierced his knife into the heart of the woman he loves, the news of Daenerys being alive reaches Westeros. Fearing for her life and the life of her 5-year-old daughter Daenerys decides to take the offer of marriage from the Prince of Dorne.In the north Jon gets sick and travels back south of the Wall to get better. Once he arrives he learns about the possible war between Dorne and his brother’s kingdom. They ask for his help and Jon goes to Dorne. There he meets the prince, and his new wife. Daenerys Targaryen.This will be a slow burn Jon and Daenerys fic. But it will have some flashback missing moments from s7 and s8 to take a break from all the angst and tension.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Jon and Daenerys fic. No need to worry. Hardcore shipper over here. I know a lot of people don’t really like to read about Daenerys or Jon with someone else. Well, this is the prologue of this fic so if you don’t want to read about that, this won’t be the story for you.  
> For those who do. Don’t worry the focus isn’t Daenerys in a new relationship. The relationship is only a way to create tension between our love birds. Slow Burn fan over here. I love both Jon and Daenerys and they both have been handled dirty by the writers. I can only hope this story will try to mend the hole they left behind. 
> 
> Still deciding whether or not I will let Daenerys take the full blame for killing everyone in Westeros. But maybe write it like some leaks told us about: Cercei planting the wildfire and that causes everything to burn down as soon as Daenerys attacks. Tricking everyone into thinking it was Daenerys. If you have an opinion on this going a little AU you can leave it in the comments. 
> 
> That being said. This is like the fanfic I really wanted to read but couldn’t find. So I thought to try some writing myself. This is my first time for the GOT fandom and I haven’t written a fanfic in 8 years. So bare with me. English isn’t my first language so--- mistakes are bound to happen. I am terribly sorry for them. But I hope you’ll be able to enjoy this fic either way.
> 
> If anyone want to beta read or even co-write this. Feel free to volunteer.

 

 i.

 

 

 

_“Be with me. Build the new world with me.”_

 

He felt the sheets soaked beneath him as he opened his eyes. The salt off sweat and unshed tears burning in his eyes. He had woken like this for about a year now. Reliving the horrific moment over and over. Still remembering laying her down in the bed of ashes that looked like snow.

 

He had thought about ending his life, more than once. Living with the guilt over killing the woman he loved was unbearable. But he couldn’t. He felt as if that would be too easy. Not the punishment he deserved.

 

Breathing heavily, he rubbed his hands over his bare chest. The sweat still present. Trailing from his stomach to his neck. His breathing stopped for a moment when he reached the scar over his heart. This used to be the constant reminder of the betrayal his own men casted upon him. Now it only reminds him of what he did to her.

 

Betraying her. Leaving the same scar as his own on her perfect skin. His breathing suddenly started to grow heavier. And with each rise of his chest he let out a choke. Tears now falling down his cheeks. And he weeped. He cried himself to sleep that night, like many nights before. He didn’t just end her life that day. He also ended his.

 

 

 

ii.

 

 

 

 

_“We break the wheel, together.”_

 

There were times she wished that with bringing her back to life, the gods would have taken her memory with it so she didn’t have to relive that day over and over again. It had been two years. Two years and every day she woke up thinking about what she had done.

 

At first she didn’t fully understand. Couldn’t really grasp the magnitude of it. She only remembered the anger. She’d been so angry. She had wanted to burn them all. She’d wanted to avenge every death. Jorah, Missandei, Rhaegal. Jon. He hadn’t died. She’d known that. But he’d been gone. And maybe, that had been the one death which had scarred her most of all.

 

It had been two years and she still thought about him every day. And for all the pain and regret she had over what she had done. For all the horrible memories. His memory hurted her the most. She felt a single tear falling from her eyes, down her cheeks, sliding over her lip as it softly fell on the bed. Another one fell, following the same path, but ending its course on the silver curly hair beneath her.

 

She softly grabbed a few locks between her fingers. Twirling her fingers around the crulls. Watching the little girl sleep.

 

She had dreamed her entire life only in black and white. Dark thoughts would pull her in, they would haunt her, terrifying her. And when she would wake up with a start, she would wonder if this was just a preview of what was waiting for her.

 

She didn’t dare to dream in colours. Didn’t dare to believe in having a good life. A life where she could make her own choices. Were she wasn’t haunted down by King Robert. Wasn’t abused by men. Only once in a while she would dream in colour. Of a house with a red door. And she felt safe.

 

But now, she didn’t dream of that red door anymore. When she’d woken in Essos, the chanting of the red priestess around her, there had only been darkness. She’d known there was some power out there that would always judge her for what she had done and no matter how well she would hide, she would never outrun this. Never find forgiveness.

 

But the more time she’d spent, the more she’d grown unsure. There had still been suffering. There had still been night terrors. There had been punishment and pain. And yet, there had been one light in all of her suffering. A gift from the gods. Her little girl. Hair as silver as the moon. Eyes big and brown like chocolate. The dark thoughts had stopped following the day she’d been born. And for the first time in a long time she’d felt a spring of hope. She’d believed she could escape.

 

 

 

 

iii.

 

 

 

_“Was it right? What I did? It doesn’t feel right.”_

 

Tyrion’s words still echoed in his head. “Ask me again in 10 years.” He had told Jon. But Jon had known he wouldn’t ever feel like he did the right thing.

 

Even now, 5 years later. He still couldn’t shake the feeling. The doubt. The pain. The regret.

 

He had been living with the wildlings for 5 years. Hunting, drinking, talking, building houses, fighting. He was living his life. Yet he still felt like he was more death than any whight he’d ever killed. A zombie. The cold in the north couldn’t even grasp the cold he felt in his heart.

 

They were sitting in front of a campfire. Tormund to his right, talking loudly, for all the wildlings to hear, about some mamout he killed once. Laughter filled the dark night but it was like Jon only heard this blurred sound. His eyes fixed on the fire. The fire sucking him in. Everything around him died. Every sound. Every feeling. He lifted his hand and reached for the fire.

 

He couldn’t even feel the heat as he reached closer. He couldn't or he just didn’t care. That he didn’t know nor understood. Just as he was about to touch the flames he suddenly felt the heat, the warmth. And in that moment he could feel her. The fire. Daenerys. Just like he’d felt it when he had kissed her for the first time. When he’d travelled his hands over her soft skin on that boat to Eastwatch.

 

He watched the flames, praying he could see the same flames he’d seen in her eyes when he’d met her. When she had told him about her journey. How she had to overcome all obstacles. As he was staring into the flames he remembered how connected he’d felt to her in that throne room. All the stories about her being the daughter of the mad king had slowly slipped away. Replaced by a respect he didn’t quite wanted to admit to. He had seen the fire in her eyes then. Just like he was seeing it in the flames now.

 

All his life he had carried the burdens of others. But when he’d met her he felt as if that burden was suddenly much lighter because she was there, sharing this same burden. Helping him carry his. This undeniable connection.

 

He reached even further to the flames.He wanted to touch her, needed to. He could see his skin reddening. Burning and just when he was about to -

 

“What are you doing little crow!” He heard Tormund yell as his hand got slapped away.

 

Jon snapped his head toward Tormund. Still dazed. His puppy eyes looked at the giant man.

 

“I--” Jon stuttered. He didn’t know. What was he doing? Why was he so drawn to the fire? Everything that was clear to him just moments ago. Everything that felt warm and safe wasn’t anymore. The fire was gone and ice replaced it once again.

 

 

 

iv. 

 

 

 

“Momma look!” the little four year old ran towards Daenerys. A carefree smile pressed on her tiny lips. She truly was perfection created by the gods. Rhaella gave her a beautiful red flower.

 

“This is for you momma. My favorite color!” Daenerys smiled. Red. No surprise there. She was a Targaryen after all. But hardly anyone knew this here. In the quiet place in the dusty mountains. Hardly anyone knew who she really was. Who Rhaella was. If hadn’t been for Drogo to come here every 6 months Daenerys would’ve been convinced that no one really knew who she was.

 

“That is beautiful sweetheart. Kirimvose.” She said as she thanked the girl. Rhaella crawled onto Daenerys lap. Daenerys put the book she had been reading down and swung her arms around the petite form. Nuzzling her nose into her hair. Tickling the girl’s belly.

 

Rhaella let out a high laugh.

 

“Stop momma! That tickles! Stop!” The girl screamed cheerfully.

 

“I am terrible sorry my love but I can’t hear you!” Daenerys said and started to tickle the girls feet.

 

“Stop!” Rhaella laughed.

 

“Still can’t hear you.”

 

“Keligon ziry!” The little girl screamed stop in high valyrian. Daenerys had been teaching her only for a couple of months now but she was a natural. Rhaella was only four and half but too clever for her age.

 

Daenerys came to a stop and the two of them laughed. Until footsteps made Daenerys lift her head to the direction they were coming from.

 

The red priestess who called herself Kinvara was walking towards her. A small smile pressed on her face at the sight of Daenerys and Rhaella being happy. But Daenerys knew the smile held a bittersweetness to it. She hadn’t seen Kinvara since the day she left Volantis. So she knew for her to visit Daenerys now could only mean one thing.

 

“It’s nice to see you laughing again, My Queen.” Kinvara said. Daenerys forced herself to smile again. It’s not that she didn’t like the red priestess. It’s just that she was a walking reminder of what had happened to her.

 

She used to think that about Rhaella as well. And felt horrible that sometimes she couldn’t look at her without breaking down. So much reminded her of Jon. The girl had silver hair and a skin as white as snow but she had his godawefull eyes. Round as those of a puppy. Dark colored. And when she laughed her lips almost reached her eyes. Just like Jon’s smile did. And she could feel all the problems of the world disappearing. Just like Jon’s smile had done to her.

 

She remembered his smile. Oh god, she did. And wished she didn’t. She often thought back to their time on Dragonstone. Getting to know one another. Trying to peel down the layers they had both learn to cover themselves in. Not letting anyone know the real Daenerys. The real Jon. Until then.

 

She remembered when he came to dinner one night. It was only a couple of days after she had allowed him to mine the dragonglass.

 

 

 

 

v.

 

 

 

Jon Snow poked at his food. He was sitting at the table opposite of her. She watched him carefully. Observing how he brought a piece of meat to his mouth. Watching how he drank from his wine. Slowly licking the last lingering drops of liquor from his full lips. She ignored the feeling in her lower stomach. She was far too intrigued by this stubborn northerner for her own liking.When he wanted to take another bite she felt her mouth move along with his, opening slightly. She heard Missandei clearing her voice. She looked up at her most trusted advisor who was standing in the corner of the room. Eyeing the queen and giving her a soft smile.

 

If it had been anyone else Daenerys was sure her cheeks would have turned a shade of red. Being caught. But she knew Missandei meant well. And Daenerys gave her a cheeky smile in return. She turned her head to Jon Snow once again. Straightening her face. Clearing her voice. The queenly mask back up.

 

“How was your day in the caves my lord?

 

Jon Snow stopped eating then. Putting the new piece of meat he was about to bring to his mouth back on his place. Almost as if he was surprised she was talking to him. She watched him think about his words. How blunt he had been the day she’d met him in the throne room, he wasn’t now. As if he didn’t want to say anything that would cause any more friction between them or offend her. She was sure the older man, sir Davos, had something to do with this and had told Jon Snow to watch his mouth since Daenerys was helping them. She couldn’t help but smile at Jon Snow being scuffed by the old man.

 

“It was -- good, Your Grace.” Daenerys frowned. Did he really had to think about the word “good” for this long? Jon Snow clearly wasn’t a man of many words.

 

“Good.” She replied in the same monotone way as he had uttered the words. Here she was trying to make conversation and he just shut it down by not doing anything wrong but by hardly doing anything. She wasn’t used to this. She was used to men trying to give her everything she wanted. Trying to make conversation. Loading her with compliments. Not this man. Not this grim dark haired grumpy, beautiful man. She scuffed herself at thinking about him as beautiful. This man would be the death of her.

 

She went back to her chicken and as she was about to cut a piece out of it, her knife scrapping its skin, she heard him speak.

 

“We found a passage to a tunnel today. We were able to cut though it some more and I believe once we clear the way we’ll find even more dragonglass. Maybe all we’ll ever need.” Jon said in one breath. She looked up at him immediately. Leaving the chicken on her plate untouched.

 

She could see him struggling with this. His nervousness. Jon clearly wasn’t the one for small talk. From the moment they had met Daenerys found herself interested in this man. The stories that surrounded Lord Snow were so barbarous that she’d been expecting an outlandish man-but he seemed normal at first glance, if prettier than most.

 

Lost in thought she felt Jon’s piercing eyes looking at her. As if pleading for her to say something since he took the courage to reply back to her when he clearly just wanted to eat his meal in silence.

 

“You might want to take another sip from your wine Lord Snow.” Daenerys said with an amused look. Her grin grew even bigger when she saw the puzzled look on his face.

 

“Maybe this will make it easier for you to small talk with me.” She explained. And saw a small smile appear on his lips. God, a smile looks good on him.

 

“Aye, you caught me there, Your Grace.” He said, and grabbed his goblet. She did the same and cheered towards him. As she drank she saw Jon drain the entire cup in one sip.

 

“You must really hate to talk to me.” She stated. Still amused by the sight of the King in the North draining his wine. The red liquor leaving its colour on his lips. For a moment she thought about what he’d do if she went over to him and licked it from his lips. The shock would be a sight to see.

 

“Fill his glass again please.” She told one of the servants. Jon kept looking at her as one of the girls poured him his drink.

 

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Your Grace?” He asked her as he lifted his eyebrows. Still blunt, she thought and kept looking at him. Static face. Little grin on her lips.

 

“Maybe.” A beat. “Would you bend the knee to me if you were drunk?” She asked and it was her turn to raise a brow. She was challenging him. She felt Missandei looking at her with a small smirk.

 

“I am afraid I wouldn’t, Your Grace.” Jon said honestly.

 

“Take his wine away then.” She said with a wink. God, was she winking now? But as soon as she heard his laugh she didn’t care what she did or didn’t do. Just hearing the sound of his laugh made it all worth it. His lips almost touched his eyes. His cheeks grew larger. This was definitely a sight she could get used to. Even though she didn’t really want to admit this.

 

“I have to say, I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without asking me to kneel outright.” Jon told her, a soft smile still wavering over his lips.

 

“I pride myself on being a very reasonable queen. I wouldn’t ask you on an empty stomach.” She replied and raised her chin mischievously.

 

“That’s most gracious of you-” He took a deliberate pause there. Trying to suppress a smile but the corner of his lips curling slightly gave him away. “-Your Grace.” He finished as he sipped from his wine and she found herself examining him from the corner of her eye. Were they flirting? She wouldn’t mind. It's just that she didn’t expect that they would. He was comely, she’d give him that. She’d be willing to guess that he’d left several crying girls behind when he left for Dragonstone, even if he wasn’t aware of it. And it was just that which surprised her. He didn’t seem to be the person to flirt with her willingly because he wanted to get something out of it. Which would mean that he was flirting with her because he wanted to. Because he couldn’t stop himself. She felt her knees going weak at the thought.

 

But she wasn’t like that. She couldn’t afford to be like that, because she wasn’t a girl anymore. She was a queen. And he was an unknown entity she didn’t know how to approach, until she’d gotten a better measure of him. She turned back to her food, finally cuting a piece and bringing it to her mouth. He watched her. The playful twinkle in his eyes fading away. The smile on her lips gone. The heaviness of their lips crashing back on their shoulders.

 

They finished the meal in silence; if you would enter the room now you would’ve never guessed they had been laughing just moments ago. The lighthearted moment already a distant memory. Once his meal was finished Jon stood abruptly. Bidding the queen a goodnight before retiring to his chambers.

 

“What did you think of him?” Tyrion asked her later that night.

 

“I’m not sure yet.” She told her hand as she looked up at him. “You didn’t tell me that he was so-”

 

“Handsome?”

 

She decided to ignore that yet couldn’t suppress a little smile creeping on her lips. “Stubborn. Righteous. Annoying was more what I had in mind.”

 

Tyrion smiled at that. This little smile that made it seem like her knew something about them that she didn’t. She decided to ignore it as he continued talking. “If Jon Snow takes anything after his father, you haven’t even seen the true stubborn side of him my queen. But Missandei told me the dinner went quite well -- at one point.”

 

“He was just being polite. As was I.” She finished before she turned around. Letting Tyrion know the topic of Jon Snow was over for her. But she couldn’t help but wonder if they really were just that, pollite.

 

 

 

vi.

 

 

 

“Not to sound disrespectful but why are you here?” Daenerys asked the red priestess. Rhaella hopped from Daenerys lap. Sensing this conversation would be too boring for her, she went back to the field of flowers.

 

“I’m a afraid I don’t have good news My Queen.” Kinvara said.

 

“I am not your queen, not anymore. And I wasn’t expecting that you would.” Daenerys sounded cold. She didn’t wanted to but couldn’t help herself.

 

“Just tell me what it is.”

 

“They know about you. King Bran, people in Westeros. They know you’re alive and they are coming for you.” Daenerys had been expecting it. For 5 years she knew that the life she had build here wasn’t one to last yet it completely surprised her. And absolutely broke her.

 

Kinvara must have seen this and quickly added. “But there might be a solution. The lord of Light isn’t finished with you yet.”

 

Daenerys looked at her, puzzled. “I don’t understand.” She said, almost sounding 10 years younger, unsure, scared.

 

“Dorne had declared themselves an open rebellion against the reign of King Bran. They want their independence but King Bran refuses to give it to them. Not like he has given it to the North.”

 

“I’ve heard the rumours.” Daenerys said dryly. If it hadn’t been for her life and more importantly the life of her child being on the line, she would have found all of this rather interesting. But right now, she only cared about how they could remain safe. How she could protect Rhaella, as she would do so. At all costs.

 

“But I don’t understand how this will help me.” Daenerys finished.

 

“Dorne wants to ride against King Bran. But they need allies. Someone who has the same hatred for the kingdom as they do.” Kinvara told a confused Daenerys. The red woman saw Daenerys still struggling. Not understanding what she was trying to say. So she finished -

 

“The prince of Dorne. He asked for your hand in marriage, My Queen.”

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thank you for everyone who started reading this fic! Really enjoy reading all your suggestions and that you’re curious to see where this will go. I have it all planned out. Three pages of how I want the plot to go, so I am definitely writing with an ending in mind. And I hope you’ll all enjoy it.
> 
> I wish I didn’t have to say this but I do, as much as I understand that people have different opinions on characters or how a story should go. This is my story. It’s something I have been wanting to read but couldn’t find so I took all my courage and decided to write something for myself and share it with whoever wants to read it. When you don’t want to read it, fine. But just don’t come into this fic bashing on the plot since I put it in the tags, summary and notes what it's about. If it's not for you, just stay away.  
>  
> 
> It's like going into a fish restaurant, whilst you don’t eat fish. Take something from the menu that has only fish and then complain to the kitchen that there was too much fish. Whilst there are other perfectly fine restaurants that don’t serve fish in the same street. Don’t know why I am talking about fish here but you’ll get the point.
> 
> I love both Daenerys and Jon, and both have been treated like I never thought they would have in S8. Both are suffering. And I do think what Jon did was the right thing to do in the horrible storyline of S8. (Not saying that this was the right storyline choice for either character. They should have never let Daenerys go mad in the first place. But thye did.. so well..trying to at least fix their relationship here) I just don’t think he, the character, felt like it was the right thing. Like he said so, “It doesn’t feel right,” He has always been a man of his word. “When words stop meaning anything…” So for him to call her his queen and then ending her life must have really fucked him up. And I want to show that in this fic. Because it would be a dishonour for Jon’s character to kill the woman he loves and followed and for him to be all happy in the north. He deserves happiness but that's not who he is and would be after he’d done something like killing Daenerys, his queen.
> 
> Its my story. My take on things. So I don’t pretend to write the actual truth. Its just a fanfiction. This helps me to move on. And I find it incredibly sad to read that some people don’t grant me, or others, this. Makes me want to delete the entire thing and throw all the courage I have found for writing this into the trash. Why would you ever want to make someone feel that way? Especially in a creative process?
> 
> I’d understand if you were from a different ship (not that I’d understand what you’re doing here) but we’re on the same side. We all love Jon AND Daenerys. We were all in shock and heartbroken over the ending. So why not focus on that? And let people write what they want to write. If the plot isn’t your thing, just click on the exit button and read something else what does interest you. It's what I do. Anyways, sorry for this rant.
> 
> I don’t want to monitor my comments since I believe in freedom of speech and all. But when the comment will be about the plot of this storyline, bashing or calling me an anti fan I will start to delete them. There is enough negativity in this fandom and world already. Also, people have relationships with other people. Love ain’t just some black and white kinda thing. And that’s what makes it interesting.
> 
> All criticism on the story and from people who’ve actually read its, are more than welcome. :-)
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> And as always, sorry for the spelling errors.
> 
> xx

 

i.

 

 

Daenerys watched Kinvara’s beautiful form fade away and grow into a small unrecognisable dot. Moments after she’d left her eyes were still fixated on that same spot. The shock paralyzing her. Until a tiny hand grabbed hers. 

 

“What's wrong mamma?” The young silver haired girl asked her. Big eyes staring at her. 

 

“Nothing my darling.” Daenerys said as she tried to form a smile on her face. 

 

“It's getting late, lets go inside.” She said and grabbed her little hands more firmly than she’d ever had. 

 

Later that night, when Daenerys had finished the dishes and crawled into bed, the words of the red woman kept haunting her. _“They are coming for you.”_ Sending shivers down her spine. Terrifying her. 

 

The only good thing about any of this was that Kinvara hadn’t spoken of Rhaella. Which could mean they didn’t know about her. It was the only thing that kept her from running to her kitchen drawer and piercing a knife in her heart all over again.

 

Daenerys eyes fell on the girl asleep in her arms. As fierce as she was during the day, she was a true angel at night. Not a single worry of the world resting on her face. It reminded Dany of all the times she had watched Jon asleep on the boat and on their road to Winterfell. She scuffed herself at letting her thoughts fall back to him. 

 

This always happened; in the quiet of the night. Her mind could only think of him. Daenerys thought about his sleeping forms as she watched their daughter. Thought about all those times she had watched him with his eyes closed. Her memories always beginning with the first. Her little secret.

 

 

ii.

 

 

 

 _“He took a knife in the heart for his people.”_ Sir Davos’s words still lingered on her brain when she entered her room. It had been 7 days since Jon Snow had arrived. He’d made some progress in the caves. Had almost cut through the entire tunnel. He’d told her it would only be a matter of days now until he could enter the cave hall. 

 

He’d almost never left the caves. He’d stayed with his men; carrying the rocks. Working as he was one of their own. She’d hated to admit it but she’d admired that about him. Admired how he wasn’t just another high lord but clearly cared for his people. 

 

Sir Davos’s words kept getting more meaning. As she could clearly see that he would, take a knife in the heart for them. She found herself starting to believe those words. Well aware that no one else would, “ _a figure of speech_ ”, her hand had told her, yet she couldn't shake this all consuming feeling that there was a story behind it all. 

 

Daenerys decided she wanted to know this truth. She got up from the bed she had been resting upon and took her leave. She ordered the guards to stay at the corner of the hallway that lead to Jon’s room. 

 

She knocked. Once. Her brother had told her  a true king didn’t even have to knock. But could just take what they desired. Daenerys had always thought those words had been ridiculous. But she was a queen and she truly did desire what was behind this wooden wall. She decided that one knock would be enough. When he didn’t respond she cracked the door open. The squeaking sound making her heart skip a beat. Excitement growing. 

She scanned the room. No sight of the man with the raven curls. It was already dark, so he couldn’t still be at the caves? Could he? She felt herself softly chuckling, he could. This stubborn man would probably get himself killed before leaving those damn caves. 

 

When she was about to turn and leave Daenerys saw a dark figure lying on the bed; fully clothed, leggs not even entirely on the bed but hanging limblesly over the edge. She took one step closer and saw Jon Snow fast asleep on his bed. 

 

She scanned her eyes over his firm body. He must have entered his room to rest and fallen asleep without wanting to. He hadn't even taken off his booths. The sudden urge to undress him and tuck him in, creeped upon her. She couldn’t do that, could she? But she wished she could. She felt that familiar dilemma inside her. Wanting Jon Snow; and hating herself for it just the same or even allowing her to let these thought enter her brain. As a queen she never had experienced these thoughts, tucking at her heart to leave all her titles behind and act on them like just a woman would.

 

She took one step closer, deciding that unclothing him, as much fun it would be, would be a bridge too far. She was about to leave but her feet didn't let her. Pinning her to the floor. This desire to watch him sleep, almost like a spell, couldn't leave her. So she stayed. 

 

She felt compelled to watch his chest rise and fall with each breath. His face looked so innocent without all the stress of the day reflected in it. When a strand of raven curls fell in his face Daenerys had to fight all instincts to tuck it behind his ear. This beautiful hair. 

 

She’d tried to fight it so hard, to throw him inside a bed and watch him sleep. Every time he’d come to dinner she’d seen the baggs around his eyes grow heavier. She knew how exhausted he really was. 

 

She took another step closer. Her face not far from his now, and studied his face, his plumped lips, his firm cheekbone, his soft beard. She could see a small peek of his bare chest and wondered if she’d untied one more lace of his shirt she’d find a scar from the knife he took. The proof she’d come to find. 

 

There was something so intimate about Daenerys watching Jon sleep without him even knowing she was here. This little secret; one only she knew about. She felt all her worries slowly fall away, her walls breaking down with the same force like he’d been hatching walls in those caves. She felt herself admitting to this profound attraction, unlike she had ever felt with anyone before. Not even Drogo. At least not this overwhelming. She wondered why that was. Why was she sitting here, watching him sleep? Why had she turned around to watch Jon leave when she had allowed him to mine the dragonglass. If I look back, I am lost.

 

And she was lost. But yet something told her that all of this felt completely right. And this scared her, more than anything. She got up, turned around and left. 

 

 

 

iii.

 

 

 

 

Daenerys awoke with a start. She wiped the sleep from her eyes. Looking around she noticed the room was dark but for a single torch casting a slight glow over where she lay. Just then she heard her name being called in a panicky voice. She turned to see Rhaella tossing and turning, sweat beaded on her temples. A night terror, Daenerys thought. 

 

“ _Gaomagon daor ivestragī zirȳ gūrogon nyke!_ ” Daenerys heart broke upon hearing those words. _Don’t let then take me,_ Daenerys took the girl in her arms. Thinking about what Kinvara had told her. She had to keep Rhaella safe, and she would do so, at all costs. 

 

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart." She whispered and kept stroking her back in a circular motion as she watched her drifting asleep. She thought of everything that was going on, what the next days would be like, what Bran could be planning. 

 

Daenerys knew she could summon Drogon and use him to defend herself. She could take her dragon and fly away, to another place no one would find her. But then what? She would give Rhaella the life she had always wanted to forget about. Running away. Always looking over her shoulder for the next thread. All because of what she’d done.

Condemning this innocent little girl to live the life as a consequence of her sins.

 

Ever since that dreadful day 5 years ago Daenerys hadn't dared to ride Drogon. Hadn’t felt herself worthy. She could flee, live a life on the run, she could surrender herself. It's what she deserved after all. Whenever she fell asleep she thought of Jon’s face first, him stabbing her. Betraying his vows. She could see the pain on his face, the heartbreak as the life drained out of her. But in her dreams his face was often replaced by the faces of people she didn’t know. Men, women; children. All burned to ash. Crying. There were times when she would wake up screaming; tears streaming down her face. She could even smell the burned skin in her empty bed chambres.

 

There were times when she hated what Jon Snow had done to her, and there were times when she didn’t. When she understood what he had done. Or tried to understand. Yet, that didn’t fix the heartbreak. Sometimes she thought she could forgive him for ending her life just like that. Without any warning. She knew she had done terrible things, and wasn’t herself. She knew she had to be stopped but what she found even harder to forgive is that Jon Snow had betrayed her long before that day in Kings Landing. Rejecting her. That had hurted her more than anything else. She’d always thought she was the last Targaryen in the word. Yet when she’d finally discovered she wasn’t she’d felt more alone than ever before. 

 

She thought about Kinvara’s offer. Marrying the prince of Dorne. Asking her to come to Sunspear. Be his wife, in order for him to protect her. Prince Quentyn had always wanted to marry Daenerys. She had known of his affections for quite some time now. And he had offered his allegiance to her cause before the events of Kings Landing.

She had married for a cause before. Yet now, if didn’t feel right. Not after everything that had happened. Not after Jon Snow. 

She hadn’t been with another man since she got resurrected. Since she had lain with the king of the North. Giving her heart and body to him. She couldn’t bare herself to let another man see her naked, feel her skin. She knew she would only think of him. And she hated feeling this weak. Still completely in his grisp. 

She didn’t knew where Jon was now. Kinvara had never spoken of him. She had asked her not to. It had been too painful to hear his name. Was he as alone as she was? Did he found love again? A girl who would make him happy. Please him like she had pleased him all those times. She felt herself getting sick at the thought. She had lost the fight over his affections. Now he was someone else to take. _I only have fear._

 

But that wasn’t true anymore. She had hope. She had Rhaella. And maybe it was time to fight again, to fight for her family. Keep Rhaella safe. And just maybe this proposal was her way out. To stop running. To give Rhaella the life she had always wanted. 

No harm in hearing what he has to say right? Would he even accept her if she had a daughter? But call it naive or desperate, she decided she would ride to Kinvara the next morning, asking her to send a letter to the Prince of Dorne. Asking for an audience. 

 

 

 

iv. 

 

 

 

He exhaled loudly and opened his eyes to stare up, the moon casting light against the clouds, and he had to blink twice to make sure that he hadn't seen Daenerys's face staring back at him from above. 

 

He couldn't take the ache in his heart that came from every thought of her that crossed his mind. From her smile that practically made him go weak at the knees, to the way her perfect green eyes mirrored every emotion he was feeling perfectly. From when he was attempting to charm her, to pain when he had seen her crying of the loss of her first dragon, to when he had stabbed her…

 

He wiped a finger under his eye, clearing the tear that threatened to fall. He had done the right thing, he knew that. People had told him this multiple times. He had done the right thing, for the realm. Not for his heart. 

 

Jon lived a good life here, he felt free in a way he hadn't felt before. Except maybe for that time he’d climbed on Rhaegal and had flown north, with her by his side.  But right now, he wasn’t responsible for anyone even though they looked up to him. He loved the wildlings. They felt like his people. They were his people. The north couldn't heal him but it could find him a reason to keep on living. Ghost by his side. 

 

They had been travelling for quite some time now. Climbing mountains, crossing rivers. Finding a new place to take camp. They had lived in the other camp for about 2 years now but the food had started to clear so they decided to go looking for new lands. A new home. 

 

“As good as you are with the sword. You suck with the arrow!” Tormund exclaimed.

 

“I do not!” Jon replied back. Defending himself weakly. They were on the hunt for food and Jon had already missed three times when Tormund had been able to hit every single animal he’d set his eyes to.  Jon hated to admit it, but Tormund was in fact better with the arrow than he was.

 

“Even my mother was a better shot than you are Little crow. And she spend most of her days fucking around. So that should say something-” Tormund said and let out a loud laugh. Jon couldn’t help but join him. “I swear, I don’t understand why all of these girls here want to suck your cock whilst they can have mine. A real man.” Jon raised an eyebrow to this. 

 

“These girls do not want to suck my cock Tormund.” Jon said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. The big red haired man took a step closer. 

 

“Aye they do. I can see it in their filthy eyes and their small giggles when you pass them.” He told Jon. And took a pause, as if he had to really think about this. “I bet it's because of your precious hair!” He shrugged his shoulder, pat Jon on the back and walked off. Jon just shook his head at the wilding who he called a friend. These girls don’t really want him right? He asked himself. And as he watched Tormund take his leave, he met the eyes of a group of girls. Who all quickly looked away and started giggling. _Could they?_

 

Even if they would, Jon wasn’t sure he’d be able to act on his desires. There had been moments, when the ale has still been lingering on his lips, pumping through his veins, that he had tried to be with another woman. But as soon as she had started to undress herself, bare herself naked for him, he only saw her. 

 

Only felt himself comparing every bit of the girls body with Daenerys’s. And it made him feel sick. Why was he still thinking of her? Why couldn't he just forget her. Why was his body not telling him to take what he desired. To grab this girl and ravish her. To make all thoughts of the dragon queen, _his dragon queen_ , go away. But he couldn't. 

 

Even when he had rejected Daenerys all those years ago, his body had still wanted her. His cock had still tingled when she looked at him. When she had kissed his lips so wantingly. Giving herself to him, and he’d almost let her, wanted to. Before his mind had kicked in. Making him turn away, run towards his chambers and release himself at the thoughts of fucking her. 

 

He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t use this beautiful wildling woman to fix him of his own pain. So he’d walked out of his tent. Leaving her alone. 

 

They had travelled for a few more weeks. Finally finding a place that would suit well for a camp base. During this entire time Jon had hardly slept. Even less than he’d been used to. Countless nights Jon had woken up up in the middle of the night. Covered in sweat. Panting. Grabbing for his head. A horrible pain screaming at him. Limbs going numb for just a moment. Until it all went away. 

 

They were living here for a few weeks now and were about to go for a hunt when Jon felt the exact same pain squirming upon him. Even more painful than before. He screamed loudly before he fell towards the ground, in the snow. Tormund and Ghost came by his side instantly. He couldn’t breath; felt like he was poisoned but he knew he wasn’t. He couldn’t even feel his legs. He could see his arms covered in purple dots before he couldn’t see anything. 

 

“Send a message to Queen Sansa. Tell her what has happened to Jon; that we’ll go to Eastwatch and ask her to send for a Maester!” Tormund yelled at the first person that crossed his path. He wasn’t one to panic. But he was now. Through a blurred vision Jon could see the wilding healer running towards him. 

 

He could feel Ghost nudging his face, trying to make him stand. It only reminded Jon of Drogon nudging Daenerys to wake her. As she, just like him, had laid unmoving in the snow. Tears filled his eyes. And with the thought of her everything went black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I am not a doctor so I won't actually name what's happening to Jon. Just call it my creative process and me using the world of fanfiction to be able to write to the point where I want to go with this story. lol. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This chapter makes a few time jumps. There is even a flashback within a flashback so I hope everything stays clear for everyone. Sorry for the angst. And cliffhangers.
> 
> I am going to add a jonerys song that makes me think of them and in a way of this story for each chapter. This one is a true heartbreaker. Makes me cry and think of them whenever I hear it. Even made a video to it, if you’re interested: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qZGE4G-dSDw

 

 

 

_My soul, I am broken by you_

_One morning, I’ll wake up renewed_

_Don’t go love_

_I need you to stay_

_My soul, I am broken today_

 

\- my soul I - Anna Leone

 

 

i.

 

 

 

Jon felt his body being carried into a nearby tent. He could hear someone shout to get the wildling healer. He felt his body being thrown onto a bed of furrs. Everything quickly coming to him before he felt his eyes falling shut again. The pain in his head stinging like a thousand needles poking in his brain. This is what I deserve.

 

“What happened?” He hadn't even heard the flaps of the tent open when he heard the Healer ask Tormund. And Jon, unable to move, felt himself asking the same. _What did happen?_

  


 

 

ii.

 

 

 

He had been walking through the dark night for some time now. He couldn’t remember how long. When he’d turned back to see his footsteps pressed in the snow for as far as he could see, no sight of the camp, he’d suspected he’d been gone for quite some time.

 

He’d gotten up in his tent earlier that night, shivering and panicking. Screaming her name in the middle of the night like many nights before. There were times when he’d feared to close his eyes. Knowing he’d wake up covered in sweat, reliving her last moments. But he closed them soon enough, knowing if he did so, even with the horror of it, he’d see her again. He would be able to hold her like he had hold her for the last time. Seeing her eyes close by the hand of him, seeing her drawing her last breaths. And he could only wish he’d be able to do the same one day. And see her again. Breathing together again, as they had, for so many nights.

 

He had woken up and knew he had to get out. Get some fresh air. So he’d started walking. In the middle of the night. Into the darkness. Commanding Ghost to stay put.

 

He’d kept walking. Kept breathing heavily. He’d wondered if he’d ever find peace. If he would ever be able to close his eyes and relive happier times. He’d hated it. Hating feeling this guilty. Yet, he’d felt like it wasn’t even enough of the punishment he deserved.

 

He thought about when Dorgon had carried her away, taking her body and his broken heart with him. He’d felt his heart leaving his body with every flap of Drogon’s wings.

 

He hadn’t remembered leaving the keep. Ash falling on him like snowflakes. He hadn't remembered walking past Arya or Tyrion who’d all run to him after seen Drogon fly away. All staring at him in shock, not saying anything, as he’d walked past them. His booths had left a blood printed trail. Her blood. He hadn’t remembered falling to the ground. His legs not having been able to carry him much longer. He hadn't remembered looking at his fist. Covered in blood, _her blood._

 

He’d only remember the pain. Killing the woman he loved, _loves_ , more than anything. _His blood._

 

The pressure he’d felt in his chest was suffocating. Intolerable. For a moment or so, he thought about grabbing Longclaw and peering his own heart with it. Making it stop. All of it. The pain, the guilt, the love he’d shared for his queen. In one motion he felt his hand going to the sword, almost pulling it out before a hand stopped him and pushed it back into its holder.

 

“You did the right thing.” He heard Arya say, he smacked Arya’s hand away from him.

 

“Don’t!” He warned her. Surprised by how strong his voice sounded. He doesn't need this. Doesn’t need people telling him he did the right thing. He only needs her. He feels Arya’s hand leaving his. His blood covered hands. It’s everywhere. His clothes, his arms, some on his hair. He didn't even know how it had gotten there. Everywhere. And it’s all that remains of her.

 

“She was going to kill everyone.” Arya said. A pause. “She killed everyone.” Jon turned around. Biting his trembling lip. Fighting back the tears he didn’t know were still left in him.

 

He’d cried when he heard about the loss of his father, his brothers, Ygritte. He had thought that had been pain created by the most evil of gods. He had wanted to avenge all people responsible for their deaths. But now, the most horrific pain of them all, was caused by his own hands. How could he avenge her? How could he avenge her without taking his own life? He kept breathing harder. Panic clutching his heart and tugging at it to leave his chest. He’d betrayed her. Lied to her. Brought dishonor to her.

 

He had seen it all in her eyes. It wouldn’t matter how many people told him he’d done the right thing. He’d never forget the look in her eyes. The innocence. The hurt. The betrayal.

 

He can feel the pressure in his chest trying to push up his throat, commanding him to break down in tears, but he can’t let it. If he starts crying, he will never stop. Never.

 

He remembers her opening her mouth when he’d plunged the dagger into her chest. Had she been trying to say something? What would it be? _I hate you. I loved you. You betrayed me._ Jon didn’t know. Jon feels his heart skipping every beat. Panic. What were her last words? He can’t remember. _How could I forget?_ He could feel his body starting to crumble, all air left his lungs, unable to breath in more, unable remove the suffocating dark pull at him, and that increases the panic, chest rising and falling at a speed that he didn't know was possible. Tears filling his eyes, the last air leaving his lungs. Unable to control the darkness any longer he could feel his heart shattering in a thousand pieces. We could say here a thousand years. And he cried.

 

The first few are soft sobs, quiet. But with each sob he feels his legs shaking, it grows in intensity, until he falls down to the floor. Smothering under the pain of leaving her. Hands stumbled over the ashes as if he tried to find her body, wanting to hold on to it. If Drogon hadn’t taken her away he believed he would have never let her go. Holding her until he drew his last breath. Weeping over her body. But she’s gone.

 

“She would have been—She’d---I-- She would--” he was unable to finish. Words tried to leave his lips but only sobs coming out. He only cries harder. She would have been a good queen if only I had been by her side. Protecting her from herself, her grief, the betrayal. The guilt kept growing, he felt it’s darkness overtaking his heart. Every raw emotion climbing to the surface. For everyone on display. _I need to throw up._

 

Breathe, he thought. Just breathe. But he can’t. He tried to, tried so hard. He could feel his mouth opening but no air came in or out. Is there even any left in him? In this world? The fear and lack of air caused his body to shake. Anger took over.

 

“I killed her. Arya, I killed her!” He shouted between chokes. “I killed her.” He said lower now. “I killed her.” A broken whisper.

 

His sister joined him on the floor. She was crying, the display of her brother, being too hard for her to bare. Even if his actions had been necessary. She looked up at Tyrion, tried to find help as what to say. But she only saw the same utter loss and pain in his eyes. Tears fell down his cheeks, into his tick beard. She’d looked around at everyone, Northmen, Unsullied, surviving common folk. Everyone perplex. Shocked. Almost in tears. Staring a the broken wolf. She took his face into her hands. Making him lock eyes with her.

 

“You had to.” Arya insisted.

 

The next thing he’d remembered is Greyworm arriving. Ordering his men to siege him. There had been no need for chains. Jon got up on his feet and followed them straight away. No punishment could cause him any more pain then seeing her close her eyes, for the final time.

 

He had been living in the dungeon for a fortnight. The walls closing in on him like the guilt did to his heart. Any of the food he tried to eat almost immediately followed back to the floor. Heaving when nothing but tears were left in him.

 

And now he had to return to Winterfell. As if it was a cruel joke, he’d walked on the decks of the boat that had once been Daenerys’s. Tryon had ordered the queen's boat to stay, Grey Worm didn't want it anyways. Too much emotional attachment. Even for an unsullied man.

 

Jon walked below deck, stood before the door with her sigil, his sigil, theirs, on it. He was sure they’d remove it soon. Erasing every Targaryen legacy, like Robert had did so many years ago. He traced his fingers over the wooden cut dragon drawing. Hesitated like he had done what seemed like a lifetime ago. He opened the door slowly. No one was here to open it for him this time. The door fell open and his heart dropped at the sight of her cabin and the empty bed in it. He walked towards it.

 

How will he be able to live like this? With the world constantly suffocating him. Everything reminding him of her. The pain pressing his chest flat. How will he be able to lie down at night without her body wrapped around his like they did so many nights in this cabin. How will he stop himself from forgetting? Or stop himself from remembering? Stop himself from going to that dark place. _A targaryen alone in this world is a terrible thing._

 

He stumbled forward, hands moving over the bed frame and falling to the cold sheets. Cold. Like her body had felt in the throne room. He had always known her body to be warm. Burning even. Yet when he dragged his dagger into her perfect skin, she was cold within seconds. He had done that to her. He had made the fire in her turn to ice forever.

 

He felt his free hand knocking repeatedly into the wall, a continuous twitch that he can't hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears. His other hand gripping to the sheets that had once been hers. Theirs.

 

“I’m sorry.” He cried into the silent room. “I am so sorry.” He broke down. His knuckles as broken as his heart as he kept slamming them against the wall.

  
  


 

iii.

 

 

 

 

The pain felt so real. So real he could almost feel it in this instant. That's when he opened his eyes and saw the blood on his knuckles, looked before him and saw the marks of his fist pressed in a tree before him. He hit the tree again, and again, and again.

 

Until tick packs of snow almost covered him entirely. Snow that had been laying on the tree branches. He looked up to the tree, jaw dropping to the snow covered ground.

 

Eyes fixated on this green colored flower, hints of violet. Almost glowing in the moonlight. This was beautiful. he’d only ever seen a purple color this beautiful before and it had been in her eyes. Compelled to touch it Jon climbed the tree. Reaching out, he touched the magical leaves, soft as her skin. Until he got dizzy, fell from the tree and hit his head against a branch along the way.

 

He smacked down with a tudd. The world spinning around him, he tried to get up his feet. And walk back towards the camp. Once he’d arrived he fell towards the ground.

 

And now he was lying on the bed, covered in furrs. The wilding healer bending over him.

 

“Jon? Can you open your eyes?” He heard him ask. But he couldn't move, couldn't move his lips.

 

“The rash.” The healer said as he moved Jon’s tick sleeves up to his elbow. “I think I know what caused this!” The healer said. “Aconite. It's a green flower, hints of purple, only a few are growing in this world. They say when you touch the leaves you’re paralyzed soon after. Some say you can’t even look at it because it shows you what you truly desire. Compelling you to touch it. Some use it in the most powerful poisons!” All people in the tent shot him a look full of questions, worry and shock.

 

“Has he been poisoned!?” Tormund asked him.

 

“You have any idea who would want him dead?” The healer asked; as he grabbed some water and dipped the sweat from Jon’s forehead.

 

“None. Everybody adores the little crow.”

 

“If he did touch the flower, if he saw it, then it wouldn't be far.”

 

“And why would that be of help?” Tormund asked.

 

“Because they say that only the juice of the Aconite flower mixed with stuff from healers can turn back the process.”

 

“And if not?”

 

“He dies.”

 

“Not under my watch.” Tormund exclaimed. “Dorik!” He called for one of the wildling’s captains. “Gather a group of men. Look for this magic flower and bring it to me.” He commanded. Dorik nodded and as he was about to leave the tent Tormund shouted after him.

 

“Wear gloves! And do not look too long at the damned thing!”

 

 

 

iv.

 

 

 

 

_“Be with me.”_ She could still remember the feel of her voice breaking with emotion as she'd pleaded with him, with every fibre of her being, to stay by her side. To love her. To accept her.

 

She’d seen her death at his hands. It’d happened in a heartbeat. One moment, she had been hopelessly professing her love – so pitifully, so desperately – and the next, he had struck. She had merely blinked – and he had been there in an instant, surging forward in graceful, fluid motion towards her. _Am I to hate this man?_

 

Her startled brain had only a fraction of a second to register just how close he suddenly was - before indescribable pain exploded behind her eyes, staining her vision to red. It was agonising. Crippling. A level of pain she hadn't thought it was even physically possible for the human body to endure, much less survive. She had walked into fire, had been raped, hit, taken as a slave but none of this compared to the pain she felt now.

 

But of course, that was the entire point; she wasn't meant to survive. His dagger making sure of this, shattering her entire existence to fragmented pieces, life draining out of her and all she could see were those haunting, tragic eyes, holding her captive to her last, raggedly drawn breaths. _Am I to love this man?_

 

She saw the way they lowered after a moment, as if refusing to meet hers – as if incapable. And all she had been able to think about, then, as her lungs had rattled from the blood rapidly pooling into them, were those last, torturous words that echoed almost tauntingly in her ears.

 

_'You are my queen, now and always.'_

 

Those seven words hurtled her mind for years after. Along with the burning pain of the scar he’d left there. The physical trauma, however, of having a hole torn in her chest as if her body was nothing more than paper was nothing compared to the mental and emotional anguish that followed the realisation that it was Jon Snow - the boy she had loved so desperately, for what had felt like her entire life – that was the one to stop her heart beating.

 

v.

 

Daenerys saw lands coming into sight when she stood on the deck of the ship. A blue silk fabric covering her hair preventing from anyone recognizing her famous silver locks. Even though no one had any clue to who she was, Kinvara had told her to stay below deck just to be sure. And she had listened. But after weeks the walls started to come at her, the lack of fresh air suffocating her and Daenerys needed to get out. Feel the winds on her skin, the smell of sea salt and fresh fish a welcoming replacement of her own sweat and piss in the tiny cabin.

 

She had been hesitant getting on the boat. She still wasn't ready to ride Drogon again and she knew, even is she was, that it wouldn’t be a good idea. People would suspect something if they’d known a dragon coming back to Westeros. Until the marriage, until she was safe and under protection she wanted no one to know about her whereabouts.

 

She hated being on this boat. _You’ve completely ruined horses for me._ Well, congrats Jon Snow you have, in your turn, ruined boats for me. As soon as she stepped on the wooden ship she felt her thoughts go back to him. And as she’d entered the cabin she’d shared with Kinvara and Rhaella, she’d clung to her child the first night and many after. Trying to contain the sobs as she’d thought of him and their time spend on ships.

 

She’d remembered their first time together. How he had woken up before her and watched her sleep. How she had opened her eyes, slowly, only to meet his. The early morning light shining upon his raven curls making him look younger and less troubled. All together with his naked torso making him seem like a gift created by the gods. She remembered thinking in that exact moment that maybe he was. Created by the gods for her to love. She remembered finally feeling at home. And she remembered him taking that feeling away only months later. In the throne room.

 

“I need to get some air.” She’d told Kinvara. And found herself on the deck soon after. Watching Sunspear come into sight.

 

_Will I finally find peace there, she thought. Will Rhaella be safe?_

 

She’d talked with Kinvara about all possibilities. How will the prince receive me? What will the people think of me? What if the Prince of Dorne doesn’t want Rhaella? All the insecurities tugging at her heart. The last one scarring her the most. Kinvara had told Daenerys that the prince knew about her daughter. And Kinvara had assured her that the Dornish prince would explain everything to her when she’d arrive in Dorne. But Daenerys found it hard to trust people. She always had.

 

Every man in her life, every man she’d trusted and loved had come to betray her. Varys, Tyrion, Jorah, Jon,.. everyone but Greyworm. She often thought about her loyal commander. Her loyal friend. And could only hope he’d find the peace he had been looking for after Missandei’s death.

 

All the people that had followed her were gone now. All except for Drogon and even him she couldn’t trust. Or at least, she couldn’t trust herself upon Drogon.

 

Standing upon the deck, watching lands come into sight Daenerys felt her thoughts wandering back to chocolate brown eyes. She remembered how anxious she had been to meet Jon Snow for the first time. How she had tried so hard not to trust the King in the North. Promising herself she wouldn’t give in to the pull at her heart when she’d first locked eyes with him but felt herself breaking her vows as she got to know him. Over dinners at night, walks down the castle and visits to the caves. She thought about the first time he’d brought her there. The air leaving her lungs when she’d seen the drawings carved in the stone walls. _It’s all real._

 

Sometimes she'd berate herself for opening herself up to him in those caves, but then he'd look at her. And it wasn't like he was just looking at her, it was like he was looking in her, and despite everything he saw, he still made it seem like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And she had felt in her heart then, I can trust this man. Oh and how she wishes, at times, she’d never had.

 

_“They will if their king does.”_

 

And they never had either.

 

She felt someone walking up towards her on the deck. A flash of red hair. Kinvara came to stand beside her, Rhaella holding her hand.

 

“We’re here your grace. Prince Quentyn is expecting you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> As always, sorry about the spelling. 
> 
> Next up: All is set in motion for Daenerys and Jon to meet again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about the delay on this fic. But I hardly found the time to write at all. But here it is! An if it sucks, at least I didn't take two years to write something sucky. #DD.  
> I already wrote some of next chapter as well so it shouldn't take as long. 
> 
> Again, this is a Jon and Daenerys fic. No need to worry about Queryn being a real love interest to Daenerys. This chapter will definitely explain that.

**Chapter 4**

 

 

If the end of the world was near

Where would you choose to be?

If there was five more minutes of air

Would you panic and hide

Or run for your life

Or stand here and spend them with me

If we had five more minutes

Would I, could I, make you happy?

 

\- _The End of The World - Billie Eilish_

 

**i.**

 

 

Jon awoke at the break of dawn. Vision blurred as he slowly opened his eyes. A flash of a memory shot before him, reminding him of when he had woken up like this after he’d gone to capture the wight beyond the wall. A memory of her sitting beside his bed. She had been broken over the loss of her child but he thought he’d never seen anything as beautiful as her in that moment. A broken vision. He remembered his heart skipping a beat at the thought of her watching over him. Caring for him. He’d wished he would be the one to kiss all her tears away and take her into his arms. Caressing her soft hair. It was unfair, he’d thought, how beautiful one woman could be. 

 

But now, as he opened his eyes, he could only find an empty room. No Daenerys. And again, he felt that hollow part of his heart ache and break even further than he thought possible. 

 

I will never wake up to that beautiful vision again, he thought. 

 

He tried to get up, moaning in pain. Grabbing his head, it still hurts but nothing like the pain he’d experienced before. He threw his legs over the edge of the bed and tried to stand but fell down in an instant. Legs still numb. He must have been lying down for quite some time. 

 

The door swung open. Tormund had probably heard the noice he’d made.

 

“What do you think you’re doing. Get in that bed you mad man!” He exclaimed but Jon could see the softness in his eyes. Knew Tormund would be happy to see him awake. 

 

“What happened?” Jon asked him.

 

“You passed out, little crow. We almost lost you, again.” He finished that last part with a wink. Jon felt confused. Trying to remember what happened. 

 

“The flower.” He whispered. 

 

“Aye. The healer said you were probably stupid enough to touch it. It's a poisoning flower. Agonite. It can kill a man within days, but not you apparently, you little stubborn fool.”

 

“How?” Jon asked. 

 

“Some weird magic shit.” Tormund shrugged, but saw how Jon would press the matter, so he continued. “The milk from the flower can heal you again, that's what we did. We found it, followed your footprints in the snow, and got it back. With some poison the healer was able to fix you.”

 

Jon nodded, trying to understand. His gaze fell upon the stone walls as he scanned the room he was lying in. He hadn’t seen any walls that weren’t made from furr for years. They couldn't possibly be in the camp.

 

“Where are we?” He asked his friend.

 

“Castle black.” Tormund explained. 

 

“What? Why? How?” Jon looked around, confused. 

 

“Calm down. You were out for more than a week. We had to bring you here to heal. There’s only so much we can do beyond the wall. We thought they could help you better here, somewhere warm. I meant it, we--, I thought we’d lost you.” Tormund said with a certain softness he didn’t often see in the man. 

 

“Yeah well, you didn’t.” Jon added with sadness, covering his face with his hands. Exclaiming a sigh of frustration. He felt a hand coming to his shoulders. A soft squeeze.  

 

“You just keep on fighting. I admire that.” Tormund said sincerely. 

 

“Yeah, well maybe I shouldn’t” He said softly. Not once looking up to Tormund. The guilt still eating him alive. Tormund sighted, sad for his friend. Gave his shoulder one last squeeze before he handed him a cup of warm tea with herbs in it. Jon, barely looking up, took the cup in his hands and stared at it. 

 

“Are you going to drink this or did I just play housewife for two hours for nothing. You could at least give me a good fuck as a thank you then.” The ginger said with a soft laugh. 

 

“You made this?” Jon said, staring at the herb infused hot water.

 

“Yeah well, someone had to take care of you.” Tormund shrugged and watched as Jon brought the cup to his lips.

 

“How do you even know this?” Jon somehow recognised the taste but couldn't quite place it.  

 

“Remember when we had that stupid plan to go beyond the wall to capture a wight?” Tormund asked.

 

“Hard to forget.” He said with a sad smile, his gaze still focused on the cup of tea. Trying to remember when he’d drunk this before. 

 

“When we came back you were unconscious for days. We tried to keep you warm, piled you underneath warm furs, gave you urns with warm water. I came to check on you. A few times. Guess I missed making fun of you.” He said with a smile before he continued, “But each time I came, she was there. By your side.” At the mention of her Jon looked up to meet Tormund's soft eyes as he continued,  “I believe the old onion knight even had to come and get her so she would eat something. She looked heartbroken, couldn’t keep her eyes of you. One time I found her in the kitchen. Making this for you. Said it would help you getting all better.” 

 

“Why are you telling me this?” Jon asked in a broken whisper, tears in his eyes. Why is it that he never seemed to feel anything, yet when someone spoke of her he felt it all. It were moments like these when he thought his heart would get ripped out of his chest by his own hands. Overcome with the guilt as someone or something reminded him of how much she had loved him. And how he had disappointed her. Even if it had been for the best, even if he’d had no other choice. It were memories like these that made him question his decision. 

 

“Because, little crow, that woman had just lost everything, one of her mighty dragons, and she stayed by your side because she couldn’t lose you with it. Guess I just feel the same.” He said, with a soft smile. 

 

“Thanks Tormund.” Jon was moved by his words. “You are a true friend.”

 

“Oh don’t flatter yourself. I just need you for the attention of the ladies.” Jon chuckled at this. “I will let you get some rest.” He said as he got up and was about to leave the door. “Before I forget, a raven came. A letter from Kings Landing, it’s lying over there.” He said and pointed at the bedside table. “Rest well.” And he left the door as Jon reached for the paper. 

 

 

 

**ii.**

 

 

Sunspear wasn’t what she’d expected. Tyrion had told her about it, it was exotic, beautiful and felt freeing. She only felt trapped here. She looked at the grand tower which she guessed had to be  Spear Tower, a 150-feet structure with a pinnacle of shining steel. And it could only remind her of the Red keep. 

 

“We’re just traveling here to go to the Water Gardens. It’s much more peaceful there.” Daenerys nodded at Kinvara. Relieved. “The prince will be expecting us there.” And with this she felt her nervousness growing. 

 

As soon as the gates of the Gardens opened Daenerys knew this was the place Tyrion must have been talking about. It was breathtaking. Palm trees everywhere, people in exotic colorful clothing. Golden details in every building which made it almost shine because of the sun casting it’s light upon it. 

 

“Momma look!” Rhaella exclaimed joyful when she saw an exotic bird flying by.

 

“Isn’t it beautiful sweetheart?” Rhaella nodded in excitement. Daenerys smiled and grabbed the little girl’s hand.  

 

When they were about to go to meet the Prince Daenerys took one quick glance into the mirror. She was wearing an Essos dress, much like the ones she used to wear in Mereen. It was a bright light blue with some gold sewn into it. It fitted her curves perfectly and left her back bare naked. Her hair was loose with two simple braids on the side coming together at the back of her head. Without Missandei she didn’t care much for her hair as she used to. It only reminded her of the beautiful woman she lost. 

 

She was standing in a beautiful spacious courtyard. A big exotic tree standing in the middle. Everything smelt of flowers and sun. She loved it here. The door opened up and a tall handsome man stepped through it. Followed by a small entourage. 

 

He walked towards her, soft smile upon his face. He was older than her, or looked like it. He appeared fearsome but had a softness in his eyes. 

 

“Thank you for travelling all this way my queen.” The man said. 

 

“The winds were in our favour My prince.” She replied and fought every urge to correct him. She wasn’t a queen. 

 

“Queryn.” He corrected her. “You can call me Queryn.” he said before he continued. “Do you like Dorne?” Daenerys forced herself to smile. She hated this. Hated all this small talk. But she decided that she liked Queryn and that she needed him so she did what she does, or did, best, keep up the appearance. 

 

“Heard it has good wine. Tyrion was my hand, he talked about it often.” She said with a smile.  

 

“Well, he has good taste.” He finished with a suggestive wink. 

 

She must admit this man was charming, handsome even.

 

“And who is this?” He asked looking at the little girl behind her. Daenerys was about to open her mouth when her daughter stepped forward. 

 

“Rhaella!” The little girl said, making a small bowl. The prince smiled, took a few steps forward and walked towards the little girl. He lowered himself to her and grabbed her tiny hand and gave a small kiss to it.  

 

“Nice to meet you, my princess.” The man smiled. Daenerys couldn’t help but smile with him. 

 

“I am not a princess.” Rhaelle said, face held high. 

 

“Not yet.” He said as he looked up, meeting Daenerys eyes. “Come, my people prepared you a wonderful meal. You must be starving.” And so Daenerys, Kinvara and Rhaella followed the prince inside. 

 

Once they had finished every last bit of the meal Daenerys took Rhaella to her chambers and laid her down to sleep. The girl was exhausted so it didn’t take long before she heard soft snores filling her room. 

 

Daenerys closed the door and went back to the courtyard. She watched the stars and thought about the events of that day. They hadn’t discussed any politics during dinner. And Daenerys couldn't help but notice how much she had changed. She knew part of this was because she was scared. Scared to go back there, to being a queen. But it also felt like a relief. Not having to think about every word before you spoke. Not having others do the talking for you. 

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by footsteps coming from behind her. She turned around and saw the Prince walking towards her. 

 

“Your grace.” Daenerys said and bowed her head a little. 

 

“I told you, you can call me Quertyn.” He said with a handsome smile. She noticed he was only wearing a linen pants and a long coat above it, it hung open loosely, his muscled bare chest revealed. 

 

“Alright then.” She agreed. 

 

“Did you enjoy your dinner?” Queryn asked, stepping closer to her in the night.

 

“Very much so, it appears Tryion was correct. You do have the most amazing wine.” She said with a smile as the prince laughed. 

 

“It could all be yours, if you want to be.” He said, stepping closer once again. 

 

There it is, Daenerys thought, the politics. 

 

“Forgive me, Pr- Queryn. Do not mistake my suspiciousness for being ungrateful but why am I here? You could choose any queen you want, why me? The whole world hates me.”

 

“That's not true.”

 

“They call me the queen of monsters. The mad queen.” She said matter of factly.

 

“Ok maybe some of that is true,” he said with a chuckle. “But some still call you Mysa, Mother of dragons, breaker of chains. You still have a following.”

 

“Why does that matter to you?”

 

“Because- when you died I was summoned to go to a meeting in Kings Landing. They were all there, the high lords and ladies who had sworn to serve you. They had all turned their backs and forsaken their vows. Except Yara, she was the only one to speak about you but the others didn’t give you a second thought or what you had given up to save all of mankind. That made me angry. Then, Sansa Stark, lady of Winterfell and now queen in the north asked for Northern indepence and she got it, right away. Without any second guesses. Days later I asked for the same thing, and I was denied. Same for Yara Greyjoy. This made me furious.” Daenerys listened to Queryn speak. His words did hurt her. At that time, during those events in Kings Landing she had felt very little for everyone betraying her, even Tyrion. After Jon had denied her in Dragonstone for the last time she had shut any feelings or emotions out. She had nothing left but anger and fear. But now, she did feel it. She felt it all. 

 

“So you want to go to war to avenge something you’ve been denied?” Daenerys asked, and it was obvious she didn’t like that idea. 

 

“I want to go to war because yes, we want independence, but only because it would be fair. You can't give it to one kingdom and deny the next. But, that's not all. People are suffering.” Next Queryn told her about how the council is running the kingdoms, how nothing has changed. How men still make the decisions, how they think they are the right ones but aren’t, not really. How King Bran hardly cares about what happens to his people. It would have angered Daenerys at one point in her life. But not anymore. 

 

“That still doesn't explain why you’d need me.” She said. 

 

“There might be a war coming and I would be lying if I said your dragon couldn’t be of good use to us.” The prince said honestly. He walked towards a nearby fountain and sat down at the edge of it. He motioned Daenerys to follow and she did. 

 

“I haven't flown Drogon for years.” She said softly as she sat down. 

 

“I know. I’ve kept track of you.” He said with a smile as Daenerys raised her eyebrows. ”But that's not the only thing. Our families have been allies before and it was a strong alliance. We’d be powerful together. We’d be good. I know you’re not safe, not anymore. I could protect you.” 

 

“I thought I was good before. And then I burned an entire city to the ground.” Daenerys almost whispered, the end of her sentence coming out a little broken. “Maybe I deserve to be punished.”

 

“Haven’t you been punished enough?” The prince asked her. And she looked up at him, locking eyes with him. “And your daughter? Does she deserve to be punished?” Daenerys looked away, up to the stars, trying to hide the emotion behind her eyes. 

 

“I’ve killed innocents.” She said to the sky. The prince grabbed her head and turned it towards him. 

 

“We have all killed innocents. Your ancestors did the same and people still followed them.” He said softly. Trying to comfort her. This man truly was kind. Yet, she didn’t know if she could trust him. “But why did you do it?” He asked. She could see the fear behind his eyes for asking her this. 

 

She shook her head. “Madness,” she said softly. “It was a mistake. A horrible, horrendous mistake I can’t erase or take back.” 

 

The prince nodded. “I’ve killed innocents too.”

 

“I know but I don’t want to  be like my ancestors. I never have.” She said honestly.

 

“Then be my queen. Proof you are the queen people whispered you were for years. Amend what you broke.” He said and grabbed her and hand and gave light squeeze to it. 

 

“Look, Daenerys. I am not asking you to go to battle with me just yet. I am simply suggesting we build an alliance, one sealed with marriage. They are coming for you, they will kill you. And your daughter.” He said a little louder now. 

 

“It doesn't bother you? That I died.” Her question could barely be heard. 

 

“No. I have heard of your magic way before that. If anything I find it makes you even more attractive.” He charmed her.  

 

“What about my daughter? Does this bother you?” Daenerys asked, ignoring his attempt to flirt. She wasn’t here to fall in love, she was here to find protection. 

 

“I can’t have children.” The prince confessed. And she could see the sadness in his eyes. It was the same sadness she had felt when she had said that sentence out loud for so many years. “So I would legitimize Rhaella as my own, making her a princess of Dorne.”

 

Daenerys breath started to quicken. There was a way, to keep Rhaella safe. 

 

“I will think about this.” Daenerys said, and got up. “Good night, -- Queryn.” 

 

 

 

**iii.**

 

 

 

The next couple of days Daenerys and Rhaella wandered around the Water Gardens, Rhaella got quickly used to the luxurious life. There does run royal blood through her veins after all Daenerys had thought. 

 

At night a rider had come. It was a letter from King Bran, telling the prince of Dorne he knew about Daenerys presence. And that if they wouldn’t hand her over a war would come of it. For the first time Daenerys had felt the threat become real. And feared for the life of her daughter. 

 

She had kissed Rhaella goodnight. And had gone to the Prince’s room. Telling him she’d accept his offer. Before she wanted to leave the room the Prince had asked her one thing. 

 

“Who is Rhaella’s father?” This had stopped Daenerys right in her tracks. 

 

She’d gotten back to her room, breathing heavily. She had lied. She had told the prince that one time she had felt sad. Had too much wine to drink and had fallen for the charms of an Essos man. He had disappeared the next day but he had given her Rhaella. The Prince had nodded. Told her that man was a fool and that he would be a good father for Rhaella.

 

They were married the day after. On her wedding night Daenerys had been extremely nervous. She didn’t want to be with another man, she knew she wasn’t ready. Maybe she never would be. But the prince didn’t press the matter. He took his leave to the next room and had slept there. 

 

She didn’t know why she had lied to the prince about Jon. Why she just didn’t tell him the truth. But Rhaella being Jon’s had always been her little secret. She hadn’t even told her daughter about it. Only she, and Kinvara, knew about it. And on some level she felt like this was all she had left between herself and Jon. This little miracle that came out of the love they once shared. And by keeping this for herself she felt as if she kept the love between her and Jon alive as well. As much as she hated to admit this. She needed that love. She needed this secret.

 

The coming days Daenerys and Rhaella gotten to know the prince better. She learned he had a soft heart, and was wonderful with his spear. The best she’d seen since Greyworm. 

 

Every night they went to their chambers and even though the prince now slept in her bed he still didn’t touch her. He had given her kisses, publicly also, but never touched her in a way a man would touch his wife. At first she’d thought he was just giving her time. Respecting her like any woman should be respected. Then she started to think that maybe he thought she wasn’t beautiful enough, that all of this truly was because of her dragons. It’s not that she wanted to prince to touch her but as a woman, that did hurt. She closed her eyes, and every night the same thoughts made her drift off to sleep. Jon. 

 

She felt herself dreaming about his curly dark hair, his hands, reddened and calloused by all the fighting. His soft, plump lips. 

 

As she lay next to the prince she felt herself dreaming of drawing little circles on Jon’s naked chest. Laying kisses on his scars. She felt herself dreaming of him whispering sweet words into her hair. Them laying intertwined on the bed, naked. She dreamt about him whispering to her he would give her a child. Give her everything she deserved. And then she’d wake up. And she would remember that none of this was a dream but it had all been a memory. And she would weep. Silently, so the Prince wouldn’t hear her. She would weep for Jon. Still. 

 

One night, as she was getting ready to go to bed, Queryn was already lying on the bed, chest naked.

 

"Have you tried bedding a woman before, my queen" He’d asked her, she had turned around in shock, he had an amused look on his face. 

 

Irritated, Daenerys scowls, she locked eyes with him, "Of course I have." She said proud even. She knew she had him there. 

 

"Oh, of course you have, have you?" There's laughter in his eyes.

 

"Men are better. In most cases." She shrugged. 

 

“I like to agree.” Oberyn said with a smile as he saw her eyes widen. He chuckled at the look on her face. He had told her about his preference then. And it all made sense to her now. 

 

“If this is nothing more than an alliance and a friendship that is okay with me.” The prince said as he kissed the top of her head. “But I am protective of what is mine.” He told her. And she could feel the warning in his words. 

 

 

 

**V.**

 

 

 

Jon had finished reading the letter in one quick breath. It came from Bran. Well is had Bran’s sign but Jon knew it really came from Tyrion. He could recognize the imps words within an instant. 

 

Jon called for Tormund. “I am going to Kings Landing!” Jon had told him. 

 

“Why on earth would you go back to that horrible place?”

 

Next Jon had told him about Bran’s letter, how it said that Dorne was now an open rebellion against the kingdom and that they needed Jon to go there with sir Davos and Tryion. Keep them safe. 

 

“I don’t understand it.” Tormund said. “These people banished you.”

 

“He’s still my brother Tormund. I still care about him. If I can help him, help this Kingdom. I will.” 

 

“Ok.” The ginger man said, not really believing Jon’s motives were that simple but letting it go for now. “But I’m coming with you.” The ginger man said, turning to leave.

 

“Tormund, your place is here. I am not asking you to come.” Jon said. 

 

“I know you’re not. But without me you’ll get killed, again. No way you’re getting yourself out of this one.” Tormund smiled and Jon nodded, moved by how much this man cared for him. 

 

“Thanks Tormund. Guess we’d better start packing huh?” Jon said. 

 

“Besides, I heard the Dornish wine is the best there is.” They said as they left the door, and at this Jon laughed. 

 

 

\--------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: REUNION.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in shock, an update! Sorry it took so long. It's a miracle that I've finished another chapter, truly.  
> Hope you'll all enjoy it. Oh and yes; I do moodboards now. 
> 
> I hope you're all safe. <3

 

 

 

 

_And I've been careless,_

_I think too much._

_I want to lie still, near you,_

_Near you._

_I want to._

 

_The wind shook the kiss from your mouth,_

_Before I could learn whose twin I was._

 

Twins - Gem Club

 

 

_i._

 

 

Jon arrived in King’s Landing after nearly a month of traveling. He instantly felt nauseous upon seeing the capital. He hated this city. He hated every single thing about it. The smell, the sight, the people and the memories it brought back to him. Not even the warm sunlight could shake the repulsion he felt for this place. 

 

The one thing he was happy about was that he could get of the ship, the small cabins closing in on him as he thought about how easy he would have gotten there if he had been on Rhaegar's back. Thought about the freeing feeling of riding a dragon, which only made him think that he would never be able to do that again. _My own bloody fault._

 

Jon knew he hadn’t handled being a Targaryen very well. There was too much at stake then to really process. He felt as if he hadn’t gotten the time to accept it. But he also knew he was just looking for excuses and could feel the guilt of his lack of acceptance, accepting who she was to him, eating at him like a dragon would devour a sheep. 

 

It wasn’t that her being his aunt bothered him that much. He just hated the lie. He hated what could have been. He hated how his whole life he felt as an outcast and yet Ned Stark knew where he belonged. He hated that some people would have assumed he had a better claim to the throne she longed for so bad. And he hated that his claim had been the first thing that came to her mind when he’d told her the truth. Hated she’d think so little of him when he’d never wanted that damned throne to begin with. And he hated, more than anything, that he hadn't told her that.  

 

When Jon entered the throne room he hesitated before going in. He hadn’t been back there since  --- _I can’t think about this now._

 

Jon took a deep breath as the large doors opened. And just like he remembered, the iron throne was gone. When he’d arrived he’d seen the Keep had been rebuild. Everything back in place, like nothing had ever happened. All memories of that day washed away. But as he walked through the doors, there was one significant thing that hadn’t been rebuild. Now, there wasn’t one throne but a couple of beautifully crafted golden chairs next to one another. One for each advisor. Like equals. _Like she would have done._

 

He felt the hint of a smile tug at his lips upon seeing Bran. Happy to see his brother was alive and well. But he just couldn’t give into the feeling of complete joy. Beyond the wall he had slowly learned to live his life again. To be able to get on with it. To stop himself from taking his own each day. But being back in this room, where he had took her life and most of his own with it, he couldn't paint that smile on his face. 

 

He nodded to Bran who gave him one in return. 

 

“Welcome back Jon.” He said in the same, if not even darker, monotone voice Jon had heard him last speak. He had gotten older. Much older then he should look. A darkness weighting on his shoulders. Jon heard the door opening once again.  

 

“As I said, you couldn't be certain we’d never meet again.” Jon turned his head to where the dwarf of Casterly rock, now Hand of the King, appeared. Tyrion walked towards Jon and gave him his hand. Jon politely accepted it. Offering just little warmth in return. He could see Tyrion eying him with sympathetic eyes. He looked pretty much the same. Maybe a bit greyer and his beard a tad longer but the same nonetheless. 

 

He hated how easy, even after everything, he grew found the dwarf. But being a castaway in North had changed him, made the darkness in his heart grow even larger. He knew he’d been the one to lunch the dagger into Daenerys chest but Tyrion had been the voice of reason behind it. Something he wasn’t entirely sure that he could forgive. 

 

“It's good to see you again Jon Snow.” He added, soft voice and Jon knew the dwarf felt for him. Tyrion continued to talk to Jon about his travels when Jon eyes wandered to the floor. Stopping abruptly on the spot where he had lain her down. He tried to look away, tried to avert his eyes from the now clean floor but he couldn’t. He could feel the air of the room pressing on his chest. He could hear Tyrion talking to him but the voice was blurred. He felt as if the room just closed in on him, eyes not leaving the floor. Memories flooding back to him. _We could break the wheel together._ He could almost hear her voice in the room and he felt some kind of relief that he could still remember. _How could I forget?_

 

The guilt of his past failures and present hatred was like a crushing burden on his shoulders. He could do nothing and say nothing – only watch, as if her body was still lying on the cold floor of the throne room, powerless and defeated, he heard someone calling his name but still he couldn't look up, couldn’t let go. He felt as if he might had to throw up. His body trembling. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be alive. He murdered her. _I killed her._

 

This was the innocent girl who had offered him the love he had spurned and rejected. The love his cursed self had never been worthy of, the love – with her gone, he knew was lost to him, forever. The girl who had held his hands when he had woken up from his terrible mission North of the wall. Who had comforted him even when she’d lost everything. The girl who he’d shared many nights with, but not nearly enough, the girl he had told his darkest secrets to and who had still accepted him, who had wanted nothing more than to look after him, to smother him with her concern, her kindness and love until all the pain and demons of his past were erased. Who had saved him from the darkness that had pulled at him ever since he’d come back to life. And then… he had killed her. _I killed her._

 

Things would never be the same. There was no place left for him anywhere. There was no going back, no escape from the shadows in his mind, not after he'd committed such a terrible and unhonourable crime. Self-loathing gnawed at Jon, burning at his insides like acid. There was nothing. Only the crushing guilt and hatred for the person he loathed most in the world – himself. It was far too late. This time he could never be saved from the darkness. Not without her. _I killed her._

 

He felt a hand on his shoulders, snapping him out of his thoughts. The hand gave him a light squeeze and he turned around to meet Tormund's soft eyes. A sympathetic smile on his face. Jon felt himself calm down, the spring of tears forming in his eyes not quite falling yet, and gave a sad smile in return. 

“There is even more darkness in you then there was when I brought you back, dear lad.” Jon turned around to meet Sir Davos walking towards him. Kind smile on his face. And for the first time since he had entered the room Jon had felt a true sense of joy upon seeing an old face again. Davos took Jon in his arms, hands on his hair. And Jon felt himself relax for just a little. Giving in to some of the comorf he’d been desperately looking for but somehow only found when he was alone with Ghost. He held onto the onion knight a bit tighter.

They parted, both overwhelmed with emotion. Sir Davos smiled kindly and patted Jon on the back. 

“Let's go for a drink lad.” 

 

 

_ii._

 

 

_His name fell in an unheard whisper from her lips one last time, before the tangy taste of copper filled her mouth and began to choke her and as her trembling knees collapsed under her - sending her crumpling to the dust covered ground - Daenerys's mind broke under the unbearable knowledge that her greatest nightmare had come into full fruition. The ultimate betrayal. He had ended her life._

 

_As her eyes closed, she saw his beautiful face – the face that had enslaved her to such a cruel fate - drift before her blurring sight one final time. She saw his face as he made love to her that night on the boat, his eyes filled with the purest love in that moment, only to be replaced by tears and raw pain as he looked at her now. Her body and soul destroyed by the shock of meeting her final faith at the hands of the very man she loved more than anything else in the world. If she knew Jon at all she knew he was hurting just as she did here._

 

_His cries seeped through her heart like a cruel poison. She stared one last time into his eyes telling her something that didn’t even came near the pain she felt at from the wound he had caused. Hate me, his eyes screamed. And as the life drained out of her, feeling truely cold for the first time in her life, the room filling with his heartbreaking cries, she knew, she could never._

 

_She could never hate him._

 

Daenerys awoke. Always to the same memory. Him betraying her. Breaking her in whole. She turned over to see Queryn still asleep, the setting morning sunlight trying to enter the room through the curtains. Daenerys got up, wiped dried tears - she knew she had cried in her sleep - from her cheeks and went to the only thing that always made her feel better, Rhaella’s room. 

 

She opened the door and quietly entered. A sad smile spreading on her face once she saw her beautiful daughter asleep. The light of the setting sun casting a beautiful orange glow on her face. She walked closer and lifted the sheets as soft as she could and crawled into bed with her. 

 

But her attempts not to wake Rhaella had failed as she felt her daughter stir in her arms. 

 

“Momma?” The girl asked, sleep still thick in her voice.

 

“Sshhht my sweetling. It's still early, you can go back to sleep.” Daenerys whispered into her hair as she wrapped her arms around her daughter, nuzzling her nose in her neck, which caused the little girl the laugh a little. 

 

“I can’t sleep like this momma ” Rhaella laughed softly and Daenerys joined. 

 

“I know. I’m sorry, I just want a big hug from you.” At that Rhaella sat up and jumped on top of Daenerys. 

 

“LIKE THIS?!” And Daenerys squealed as Rhaella jumped on top of her.

 

“Yes! Exactly like this.” Daenerys laughed. Wrapping her arms even closer around the girl. 

 

When their giggles had grown quiet Rhaella grabbed something from her nightstand. A little black elastic and handed it to Daenerys. 

 

“Can you braid my hair momma?”

 

Daenerys took the band in her hands, the smile on her face changing to something else.

 

“Don’t you want Barrah to do this for you?” Daenerys asked, referring to the girls maid. 

 

“No, I love it when you do it momma.” Rhaella said, big hopeful eyes staring at Daenerys, who nodded in response. Rhaellas face lit up as she turned around so Daenerys could reach her hair. She stared at the band with a sad look. Remembering where she had gotten it from. 

 

 

****

 

_Daenerys laid in her bed in Dragonstone, dried tears leaving their marks on her beautiful face. It was well into the night as she heard the door of her room creak open. Recognizing the footsteps immediately. Moments before he had told her he loved her in front of her fireplace, which had resulted in her being hurt by him once more when he’d rejected her._

 

_I only have fear, she’d told him._

 

_Daenerys had cried herself to sleep that night. Or tried to. She didn’t know why he’d come to her room. Didn’t know how he had gotten past her guards. But she felt her body go numb. Unable to move as she heard his footsteps grow closer. She was grateful her back was turned towards him so she didn’t had to face him._

 

_“Dany…” She heard him whisper in a soft voice. “Are you asleep?”_

 

_She didn’t respond. She wasn’t ready, he had broken her heart over and over again until nothing but shattered crumbles were left of it. Each time she still had a bit of hope that he’d changed his mind, that he could love her again. And each time he’d proven he wasn’t able to. She couldn’t handle another rejection, so she remained quiet._

 

_Jon sat down next to her as he looked at  her broken body. He felt his heart breaking for her, he missed her. Gods, he missed her terribly but he was unsure how he could mend this. How could he heal her mourning heart? All the lives she had lost. How could he make up for that? He wanted to touch her, to lay down next to her and wrap his arms around her, to make her feel a bit more whole. But how could he?_

 

_‘I---” Jon stutterd but fell at loss with words. He let his face fall into his hands. Sighting heavily as he untied his hair from the bun it was in. Laying the band beside her body. Ruffling his hands through his hair._

 

_“I don’t know what to do Dany.” He confessed. “There is more to ruling than fear.” He said, hoping she would hear his words. Hoping she would understand that there was more to her than fear. Hoping she’d give him a sign of life that she’d heard him but she remained quiet. Jon knew she was pretending to be asleep. He knew it in his soul because they were that connected. They always had been. ‘I--’ he wanted to say so much, I miss you, I believe in you, I want to be with you, to marry you, to avenge you, I love you--’ but in the end he settled for “I’m sorry.” Stood up and closed the door before Daenerys broke into tears._

 

_She turned around and her eyes fell upon the hairband he had left there._

 

This was the band she used now to braid Rhaella’s hair with. Wanting her daughter to have something from her father. Even if she wasn’t aware and even if it broke her heart every time she laid eyes upon her hair of the beautiful little girl. 

 

“It’s perfect momma.” the girl said, snapping Daenerys out of her thoughts. Daenerys smiled softly and she kissed the top of her head. _Don’t cry, not again._

 

 

_iii._

 

 

Jon saw Dorne come into sight, Davos standing beside him on the deck. The blistering sun shining upon their faces and even with the light sea breeze Jon was overwhelmed by the heat. Jon could see Spear tower from where he was standing, hands leaning on the wooden balustrade of the ship. Heart pounding in his chest as he sighed heavily and turned towards Davos. 

 

“Explain to me why I’m here again.” Davos nodded his head, understanding why Jon would ask such a question. He explained, once more, to Jon how there was a rebellion starting in Dorne, threatening the peace of the entire kingdom and how they needed his help.

 

“But why do you need me?” Jon pressed, stopping Davos right in his speech. 

 

“We need persuasive people. Besides you, the Dornish people are some of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met.” Davos said with a smile. Jon huffed at this, shaking his head, little amused. _Gods, I’ve missed him._

 

“They don’t accept your brother as the true king. We’re going to talk to Prince Queryn and ask him to put an end to the this coming rebellion. If he won’t listen, who’s better to ask him than the true heir of the Seven Kingdoms.” Davos finished, adding a wink to his last sentence. Jon shook his head, somber eyes drifting towards the city again. 

 

“I’ve lost any right to that title when I kil-- all those years ago.” Jon added quicky - not able to say what he’d done out loud, any hint of amusement in their conversation gone. 

 

“No you haven’t lad.” Davos took a step closer to Jon, who dropped his head, eyes to the floor, holding back the tears creeping into his eyes.

 

“I have!” Jon raised his voice, turning back to Davos, voice breaking. “I’ve lost it the moment I betrayed her and I’ve lost it again the moment you all casted me away!” He hissed, heart pounding in his throat, his anger coming to him like a storm on Dragonstone, unshed tears blurring his vision.

 

“Maybe you feel like that, but I don’t see you that way. Nor do many others.” Davos whispered, one hand coming to Jon’s shoulders and giving him a reassuring squeeze. The anger in Jon’s eyes died down. “Plus it helps that you’re one of the best swordsman alive when the plan goes south.” Davos chuckled and Jon couldn’t stop the sudden laughter coming to the surface. Davos smiled upon him. 

“I’ve missed you boy. Stubborn lad or not, I had grown quite used to you.” Davos said with a smirk and Jon’s face fell. 

 

The words dragged him back to the moment on Dragonstone when he had glanced over his shoulder at Daenerys while boarding the small boat. Dragged him back to the moment those lips, ever set in a firm, serious, unyielding line, had finally relaxed into a slight, amused smirk that had caused his breath to catch in his throat.  The realisation she might had been flirting with him. They'd taken him back, to the memory of her warm presence, as he'd stood so close in front of her. The breeze of the wind blowing in her hair. Gods he had loved her in that moment. _I’ve grown used to him._

 

His heart could crumble into nothing as he thought about her words that day on the beach. How he had lost the ability to speak, something he’d cursed himself for ever since – because he should have used those last few seconds of silence to move, to act, to turn around, to tell her how he felt– but instead, every muscle in his body had locked, frozen him in position. And he’d given her a short nod, turned around and went away and just like that day, his present self felt as if he would never let go of that memory. Oh Dany, _the time we’ve lost._

 

“What's on your mind boy?” The old man asked, Jon snapped his sad eyes towards him and back to the floor.

 

“She killed thousands, I know what she did was wrong but I still feel as if I betrayed her. I still can’t let go.” Jon honestly admitted to the smuggler. 

 

“Love isn’t an emotion that could simply be switched off or discarded lad, anyone who does believe that is either a fool or hasn’t experienced a love as such.” Davos said while his hand came to rest on Jon’s shoulders once more. Jon nodded, tried to understand. He did, but it didn’t help to make the againing pain in his heart ebb, staring blankly at the floor he blinked the tears away before lifting his head. 

 

“So how is he?” He asked, changing the subject.

 

“How’s who?” 

 

“The prince.” He said as he eyed Ser Davos.

 

“I’ve never met him. But I’ve heard he’s handsome, good with a spear, and kind. Unless you cross him.”

 

“Seems fair.” Jon added. 

 

“He recently got married.” Davos continued. 

 

“Hm - Good for him.” Jon said indifferently and turned back towards the sea. 

 

 

_iiii._

 

 

When they arrived in Dorne Jon could feel himself becoming nervous. He was only meeting the prince but he couldn’t shake this feeling that there was more to this mission than everyone let on. The cold welcome they received didn’t help to calm his nerves either.

 

They were brought to a grand hall what seemed to be the throne room. Everything was so different here Jon thought. Warmer, colorful, exotic and maybe, happier? Jon couldn’t pin what it was in this place that made him more relaxed, more at peace with himself and the world. He had this odd feeling of home, whilst home didn’t resemble this place in the least. 

 

Jon, Davos and Tormund, along with a couple of their weaponless guards all came to an abrupt stop in front of a large and luxurious throne, covered with colourful stones as clear as spring water. Nothing like the dark, sombre Iron throne, Jon thought. A parrot was sitting on a golden stick next to it  and a carpet from the skin of a leopard was lying on the ground. Jon had never seen a place like this before. His eyes traveled to the throne once more. A handsome tanned man with a golden ring on every finger was sitting on top of it. Jon didn’t know if it was because of the heat or anything else but something about this man made him sweat. 

 

“Where is the dwarf?” the man said without any introduction.

 

“I’m afraid lord Tyrion isn’t present at this moment. He’ll arrive later on -” Ser Davos said in friendly tone. 

 

“So the imp send you to do the dirty work for him, see if the coast is clear.” The prince said with a smirk. “The lion throwing you into the lions pit huh?” He continued, Jon could tell Queryn had no respect for the only living Lannister.  

 

Davos, ever so calm, gave the man an amused grin. “Something like that.” 

 

“Doesn’t your hand understand the importance of this matter?” 

 

“He certainly does my lord. He’d just thought he’d let us have a taste of the excellent dornish wine before he comes and drinks it all.” Bold move Ser Davos, Jon thought. Risky, but the man can read people like no other, charm his way in any situation and this one was no different as he could hear the prince laugh. 

 

“You’re not high born are you?” The prince laughed. 

 

“I’m afraid not.” Sir Davos said in his thick accent. 

 

“Oh don’t make apologies. I gave you a compliment, really.” The man said as he winked a servant to refill his wine. “What's your name?”

 

“Davos Seaworth.” The smuggler said. “And this is Tormund Giantsbane, and Jon Snow.” 

 

The prince stopped upon seeing Jon’s face and if a man's look could set a man on fire Jon would’ve been nothing but ash now. 

 

“So you’re the famous Jon Snow?” The prince said, almost with disgust Jon thought. 

 

“I guess I am.” Jon said as he lifted his head from the ground. 

 

“You’ve quite the reputation.” Jon felt as if this would turn into a cross hearing, as if the prince had no respect for him. Maybe they had more in common after all.

 

 “As do you.” Jon said, not bothering to call him any titles. _If this is how my life ends, so be it._

 

 “My wife has told me the exact same thing.” Quertyn answered with a challenging smirk.

 

“Excuse us for our manners Prince Queryn" Ser Davos was quick to interrupt, sensing the rising tension between the two men. "I am afraid we haven’t offered our congratulations on the wedding. I’ve heard you have the most beautiful wife in the whole of Westeros.”  

 

“Ah yes, that is true. In fact-” Querny said, eyes never leaving Jon and he couldn't help but feel the prince was mocking him, he just didn't understand why. He watched as Queryn summoned another one of his servants. “-go get my wife, it's rude not to introduce her to our guests.” 

 

On a que the door to their right opened and Jon felt an instant pull to turn his head to the sound of the footsteps coming through it. He lifted his head to meet this mysterious queen and on a beat his gaze froze like a wolf caught in headlights. _It couldn’t be_.

 

“May I introduce you my wife, Daenerys Targaryen. But judging from the looks upon your faces she doesn’t really need an introduction.”

 

 

_iv._

 

 

Inside, she felt her heart splitting in two after skipping a thousands beats, but on the outside, she was as stoic as a brick wall, as if his presence was nothing more than a mere casualty.

 

Daenerys took in Jon’s appearance. He looked just as she remembered. Handsome, thick beard at his cheeks, the passionate russet brown of his eyes hadn't dimmed a day, but they had gotten darker, there was obvious hurt in them. 

 

His gaze had frozen onto her face. Somehow, he just couldn't look away. He wanted to run towards her and wrap his arms around her, he wanted reassurance that she was real but he knew he couldn’t. And that she wouldn't let him either.  A silence hung in the room, everyone holding their breaths. A silence so thick you could almost touch it. His emotions in such turmoil he didn't even realise if he was awake or dreaming.

 

His breath caught in his chest as their eyes locked for a moment. He felt an wave of indescribable gratefulness to be able to see her again. A smile almost tugging on his lips but as the blinding spell of her incredible beauty faded away like the morning fog on a lake, he could see what was really there, all the hurt and anger.  Everyone evaporated into darkness, as if there was a long dark tunnel and at the end she was the light of it. The only thing he could see clearly. He took a half step towards her before pausing, turning on his heel, uncertainty pouring down all over his features. The unspeakable horror of what he had done came upon him. Looking into her broken soul for the first time in years felt suffocating, it made it difficult to function, to breathe. He was silently choking on air. Choking. 

 

“Are you alright?” Were the only words he could finally managed to speak. If she hadn’t been so shocked to see him she would have laughed at his question. 

 

“Yes. Why would you care?” The shrill coldness of her voice made his spine stiffen, but the question reminded her of the Jon that she longed for. She closed her eyes. _Don’t cry, please don’t cry._

 

His legs were shaking and he felt as if he would crumble to the ground. It took all courage for him to take a step closer but the guards pointed their spears at him instantly, so he remained where he was. Instead she walked towards him, their eyes locking once more, and all he could see was her, he felt as if time stood still. She took another step closer. Tension brewing between the two of them and Jon felt a heat burning in his entire body and heart. Something he hadn’t felt for a long time. He felt himself drowning into her eyes, he could feel himself opening his mouth to form any words as it was all he could do not to reach out and touch her. 

 

“Dany-” 

 

“Do not call me that. Ever.” And the spell was quickly broken. Tears stung her eyes, and her voice was shaking, broken. The hurt overcoming the anger and she hated that he could still do this to her. 

 

He saw her lips trembling in anger, pain and emotion. Trying to hold it all together. He looked down to the floor, giving her the privacy of her grief and to recompose herself. 

 

 "Okay." His tone was so calm, and so obedient, but smooth all the same, not a shred of temper, and it unnerved her. He finally looked up at her with those dark, broken eyes again, meeting her dead-on. She was shocked to find an incredible void in his eyes and she could see it clearly now. The hatred he felt for himself. 

 

 "Why are you here?” She asked pointedly, shaking any thoughts of compassion away. She wasn't sure what she wanted him to say but she had to keep this formal, afraid otherwise her emotions would get the best of her. 

 

When Querny had told her Jon was coming she had told him she would be fine, that she obviously still hated him for what he had done to her and that she wanted to tell him that herself. “It takes more than a knife to kill a dragon.” She’d told him, and he had smiled and kissed her.  Afterwards she’d run towards her room, tears in her eyes, sick with emotion. She had known seeing Jon again would be hard, devastating even. But nothing had prepared her for the real moment as he was standing in front of her; close enough for her to reach out and wrap herself into his strong arms. At this moment, the pain was indescribable, the heartbreak and anger overcoming her entire being. But she couldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing that. 

 

She gathered her voice and painted a smirk upon her face. "You’re a pawn into your brothers game now?" She nodded towards his entourage. 

 

He stared off for a second, unable to answer her question Jon took one step closer. “Are you really real?” He whispered, the question only for her to hear. He took one more step as she didn't answer, his right foot lifting from the ground and she bowed, shook her head then, a sign for him not to come any further, because if he did, she knew that she would break. She could barely stand the faint fragrance of his skin at this proximity, but if he came any closer, if he asked any more questions, she would snap. Crumble to the ground or into his arms, she didn’t know what would be worse. 

 

“Why are you here?” She asked once more, irritated he didn’t answer. She wanted to be in control of this conversation, Jon knew. So he caved. 

 

"I came because they asked me to Dan-." He stopped himself before finishing the name she once longed to hear from his lips. _Danny._ “To stop another useless war from happening.” 

 

She huffed at his words. Casting them away as pure nonsense. She was at her wits end. How could he.

 

“Like you’ve stopped one before!?” She snapped, the words and their meaning behind it hanging in the room. And she felt the tears stinging in her eyes. 

 

He couldn't think straight now, he couldn't form his sentences, and things were too muddled to communicate at this point. He lowered his eyes towards the floor, unable to meet hers. "There's no w—I. There's no way that I could—"

 

"You murdered me!" She interrupted, the echo of her voice galming in the large room. If felt like minutes until it grew silent. The longest minutes of his life. But everyone did remain silent. 

 

Her temper flared like a sparking firecracker, every one of her triggers caught him up. His eyes finally picked themselves up from the ground to meet the burning glare of hers.

 

“You killed everyone.” He said silently. Afraid even.

 

Teeth gnashing, she spoke through them. "You betrayed me."

 

A sheen of tears made his eyes shine in the dimly-lit throne room. Her words shattering him. She could see him trying to hold back his tears, biting his trembling lips, as she forbade her own from falling. Why is he still able to make her feel everything and nothing? 

 

He kept his eyes locked on her, and then they fell to the ground, his brow knitted in painful observation. Trying to swallow the lump in his throat away. When he looked back up at her, intent to say something, but the words sunk back, and he was left without steely defense. 

 

Seeing him so raw and broken she felt as if she couldn't breathe. The walls were closing in and she had to get out of here. What had possessed her into thinking that this was a good idea? Why did she ever agree upon seeing him. She could feel the pain she had tried to burry away for years hitting her like a barbed whip striking her insides.

 

He saw the struggle in her face. Reading her like an open book. She wasn't in control of anything anymore, at the very least, her emotions, which she’d casted to the side the moment his eyes had fell on her stunning features. 

 

He took one step closer but as she raised her hand he stopped. He knew she was about to dismiss him. She turned around and grabbed something from under her dress. 

 

“I believe this is yours.” She said and threw the dagger on the ground. “Might be useful if you’re planning to murder me again.” She hissed. 

 

If he'd felt as if he’d still had a heart he was sure it would have broken into a thousands pieces. Seeing the hurt in her eyes. Jon numbingly looked around as if noticing for the first time since she’d entered the room that there were still other people in it. He turned his head back towards hers, eyes locking once more.

 

"Get out of my sight.” She whispered angrily. “Now.” She added more firmly. In a haze he could hear the prince walking towards them, wrapping an arm around Daenerys waist protectively. 

 

“You’ve heard my wife. Leave.” He pressed, Jon never meeting his eyes but kept staring at Daenerys, her eyes never leaving his, the fire he missed so terribly staring back at him. He could see she was trying to hold it together. He closed his eyes as he turned around and walked away. His companions following him closely behind. Davos muttering a sarcastic “that could have gone worse” under his breath as they walked out. As soon as Jon turned around the corner he smashed his fist against the wall. The pain in is hand not matching the ache he felt in his heart. 

 

He rushed towards his chambers, further tears tried to escape his piercing eyes, shutting his lids as an attempt to stop them whilst he knew there was no use to it. His soul in pain, his heart breaking, and each lungful of air he took burned. He let himself fall against the closed door. Burying his head in his hands, all emotions he had tried to control in that throne room now bursting out of him. Breaking down. Nothing had prepared him for this. He knew he had betrayed her in the most hurtful way any human could betray another. He knew he had no reason to be alive again. And yet for the first time in years he was grateful that he was, alive, as so was she.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Terribly sorry for all the spelling errors. But hopefully you got what I am trying to tell here. <3


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